I'm still busily working on my website. Given that there's not going to be a huge amount of content - being clear and to the point seems to me the key - and my boyfriend is doing the html, this seems to take a surprising amount of work. Oh, the probably gratuitous brain-sweat and heartache of working out how to divide the material and what to call the sections.
I have of course been doing a lot of googling to see how other writers and editors present their sites, looking for inspiration - and finding it in some unlikely ways.
Like a lot of people in this business, I secretly panic that my writing is crude and my editorial advice insane, even while knowing intellectually that this is not true (my professional self would at this point like to insert a disclaimer and a paen to my brilliance). So in a way I’m perversely encouraged by some of the charlatans out there, who are promoting themselves as able to give expert advice on other people’s manuscripts on the basis of their having completed a correspondence course and published one article online. Comparing myself, I realise that I do indeed have credible experience, and quite a lot of it.
Some of the dodgy websites seem to be the work of people who have lost their existing career in the recession and are now trying, enterprisingly, to start a new one. I can’t help but sympathise, to a degree… at the same time as wishing they hadn’t taken those ‘Why not be a writer?’ adverts seriously, and hoping nobody wastes money on their services.
I wonder if they do get clients?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
New website pending - wibble
I'm working on my soon-to-be (by the magic of Techie Boyfriend) website. Somewhat baffled as to how cosy or how hard-sell-ish I should make it, given that I would like it to encourage people to give me work if possible but don't want to give a false impression of myself.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Writer's bounce - dealing with rejections
Is this a dagger I see before me? No, it is far sharper than that, or than any serpent’s tooth you care to mention. It is a rejection letter for a project I was confident about.
Now, because the editor originally solicited the project from me, it is a long, polite email with no typos and my name spelt right (see previous post on importance of not pissing off other people in the business). Plus I have already received a nominal fee. So there are consolations that were not available to me back when I was on the slush pile.
It only took me, oh, 14 years to get to this stage. I got quite a few rejections, and somehow eventually developed writer’s bounce, which is not quite the opposite of writer’s block, but involves the ability to process reactions with maximum efficiency.
This brings us to…
The unscientific but strangely effective Bowles Method for dealing with rejection
1) Say to yourself ‘Oh God, it’s true! I AM utterly and irredeemably talentless!’ and fall down a pit of despair for a few minutes/hours (depending on magnitude of rejection).
2) Eat far too much comfort food/indulge in other non-fatal self-indulgence, after which you can distract yourself either by a) feeling sick or b) thinking ‘Oh God, I’m terrible!’ for a whole new reason.
3) Do something practical so that you don’t default on the mortgage/drown in washing up/get abandoned by spouse etc.
4) Thanks to stage 3, feel you are coping jolly bravely and start to feel indignant that the universe is not rewarding you for this. Why isn’t there a Rejection Fairy, who goes around sprinkling joy and consolation on the heroic silenced scribbling majority who try and try and yet are spurned??
5) Contemplate what a Rejection Fairy would actually be like. Realise that you would probably want to headbutt it on sight. Feel restored to sanity by this consideration.
6) Time to go back to the actual work – but only for a couple of hours at most. Stare at it in horror, realising its utter inadequacies (beware of slipping back to stage 1 here, but if you do you can always work through the list again)
7) Either fix the easiest of the inadequacies, thus giving yourself a renewed feeling of empowerment, or if the project is beyond hope, do something easy but constructive and innovative on another piece of work, e.g. renaming a character who has never quite gelled.
8) Dump writing for a few hours or a day and pay attention to the spouse/friends/pet dragon who heroically did not abandon you. Fuelled by stages 6 and 7, your subconscious will churn away in the meantime.
9) Think ‘Hey, I really am dealing with rejection well! And I’ve got all these new ideas, too.’ and experience self-esteem boost.
10) And now it’s finally back to the serious work of making the next submission the one that does not lead you back to stage 1.
This guidance is obviously satirical – but the thing is, it also works. Do try it at home (but don’t blame me if you die of stage 2).
Rejection is never going to feel great, but I've found it's possible to streamline the reaction process. After enough practice, psychodramas that might once have occupied a week can be turned around in a few hours.
Now, because the editor originally solicited the project from me, it is a long, polite email with no typos and my name spelt right (see previous post on importance of not pissing off other people in the business). Plus I have already received a nominal fee. So there are consolations that were not available to me back when I was on the slush pile.
It only took me, oh, 14 years to get to this stage. I got quite a few rejections, and somehow eventually developed writer’s bounce, which is not quite the opposite of writer’s block, but involves the ability to process reactions with maximum efficiency.
This brings us to…
The unscientific but strangely effective Bowles Method for dealing with rejection
1) Say to yourself ‘Oh God, it’s true! I AM utterly and irredeemably talentless!’ and fall down a pit of despair for a few minutes/hours (depending on magnitude of rejection).
2) Eat far too much comfort food/indulge in other non-fatal self-indulgence, after which you can distract yourself either by a) feeling sick or b) thinking ‘Oh God, I’m terrible!’ for a whole new reason.
3) Do something practical so that you don’t default on the mortgage/drown in washing up/get abandoned by spouse etc.
4) Thanks to stage 3, feel you are coping jolly bravely and start to feel indignant that the universe is not rewarding you for this. Why isn’t there a Rejection Fairy, who goes around sprinkling joy and consolation on the heroic silenced scribbling majority who try and try and yet are spurned??
5) Contemplate what a Rejection Fairy would actually be like. Realise that you would probably want to headbutt it on sight. Feel restored to sanity by this consideration.
6) Time to go back to the actual work – but only for a couple of hours at most. Stare at it in horror, realising its utter inadequacies (beware of slipping back to stage 1 here, but if you do you can always work through the list again)
7) Either fix the easiest of the inadequacies, thus giving yourself a renewed feeling of empowerment, or if the project is beyond hope, do something easy but constructive and innovative on another piece of work, e.g. renaming a character who has never quite gelled.
8) Dump writing for a few hours or a day and pay attention to the spouse/friends/pet dragon who heroically did not abandon you. Fuelled by stages 6 and 7, your subconscious will churn away in the meantime.
9) Think ‘Hey, I really am dealing with rejection well! And I’ve got all these new ideas, too.’ and experience self-esteem boost.
10) And now it’s finally back to the serious work of making the next submission the one that does not lead you back to stage 1.
This guidance is obviously satirical – but the thing is, it also works. Do try it at home (but don’t blame me if you die of stage 2).
Rejection is never going to feel great, but I've found it's possible to streamline the reaction process. After enough practice, psychodramas that might once have occupied a week can be turned around in a few hours.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Professional vs personal opinion
I just read one an accepted contemporary classic of children’s literature and did not much like it. I’m sure a lightning bolt should split the heavens and sizzle my scalp around now.
Admittedly, I would still have wanted to acquire it, had I been an editor in that position (or I think I would, as picking genius manuscripts with hindsight is always dead easy). Some aspects of the book are very strong indeed. I couldn’t call it bad, just very uneven; there are some powerfully realised small incidents but the eventful plot seems just too much for the author’s powers of description and emotional evocation. I enjoyed the first third but after that I was shouting internally, “Put down that mallet, step away from the tragedy, and don’t come back until you’ve grown some characterisation skills!”
I do see why this book has done so well, but darn it, I want my classics to be fully baked before I call them classics.
I’m the type to have strong – earnest – opinions, and I do miss being able to express them, but ‘in the business’ you soon learn various levels of discretion, basically because just about anyone else ‘in the business’ is someone you might end up working with.
There are obvious plus sides to this, but I think it’s also one of the reasons why publishing has come to be dominated by the notorious ‘Emmas’, very young women who are - or appear to be - far too nice and eager to please to ever think badly of anyone. For me, bad writing is bad writing and trying to cram myself into a meek, unquestioning little ball has just never worked.
Admittedly, I would still have wanted to acquire it, had I been an editor in that position (or I think I would, as picking genius manuscripts with hindsight is always dead easy). Some aspects of the book are very strong indeed. I couldn’t call it bad, just very uneven; there are some powerfully realised small incidents but the eventful plot seems just too much for the author’s powers of description and emotional evocation. I enjoyed the first third but after that I was shouting internally, “Put down that mallet, step away from the tragedy, and don’t come back until you’ve grown some characterisation skills!”
I do see why this book has done so well, but darn it, I want my classics to be fully baked before I call them classics.
I’m the type to have strong – earnest – opinions, and I do miss being able to express them, but ‘in the business’ you soon learn various levels of discretion, basically because just about anyone else ‘in the business’ is someone you might end up working with.
There are obvious plus sides to this, but I think it’s also one of the reasons why publishing has come to be dominated by the notorious ‘Emmas’, very young women who are - or appear to be - far too nice and eager to please to ever think badly of anyone. For me, bad writing is bad writing and trying to cram myself into a meek, unquestioning little ball has just never worked.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Granny O'Grimm
My friend works for a small Irish animation company, and their six-minute animation is in the running for an Oscar nomination. They hope to get lots of people to watch it, as it needs exposure to compete against the titans in the category.
I'm not very good at watching things I'm told to watch. But I think this one is pretty amazing.
It can be seen at:
http://www.grannyogrimm.com/#/home
I'm not very good at watching things I'm told to watch. But I think this one is pretty amazing.
It can be seen at:
http://www.grannyogrimm.com/#/home
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The national snot deficit
New job started today - three days a week in the children's book mines.
Brief handover meeting about the projects I'm handling/sharing. It's a small team, but we're on the ball where pink's concerned. Activity is sorted, and there's a team of freelancers for the series fiction.
But what about the machines and the bogeys, aka boys 6-9 publishing? We looked at each other, avowing a lack of personal specialisation in snot. There is one proven freelancer who will do the job we have coming up - and how glad we are. Without him, what to do?
"At home with farts, snot and car innards" is a golden entry on any freelancer's CV. Plus, boys' 6-9 writing is also underrepresented in most slush piles and represents a niche that most publishers are always questing to effectively fill.
Of course, getting something for the age group that's genuinely funny and *not* all about snot, that is the ultimate jackpot. But most of the time, hurrah for bogeys and keep that freelancer sweet.
Brief handover meeting about the projects I'm handling/sharing. It's a small team, but we're on the ball where pink's concerned. Activity is sorted, and there's a team of freelancers for the series fiction.
But what about the machines and the bogeys, aka boys 6-9 publishing? We looked at each other, avowing a lack of personal specialisation in snot. There is one proven freelancer who will do the job we have coming up - and how glad we are. Without him, what to do?
"At home with farts, snot and car innards" is a golden entry on any freelancer's CV. Plus, boys' 6-9 writing is also underrepresented in most slush piles and represents a niche that most publishers are always questing to effectively fill.
Of course, getting something for the age group that's genuinely funny and *not* all about snot, that is the ultimate jackpot. But most of the time, hurrah for bogeys and keep that freelancer sweet.
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